And So It Goes
by hotchityhotchhotch
Summary: AU sequel to Departing Sun. Emily visits Hotch's grave on the first anniversary of his death. She brings with her a special visitor. Emily/Rossi and Emily/Sean friendship. COMPLETE.
1. Abigail

**A/N: This is an AU sequel to Departing Sun. This story assumes the epilogue (where Emily is with Jack and Jessica in Philadelphia, getting along all right) did NOT happen. Emily did move to Philadelphia, however things turned out much differently. Completely ignore Waking Up as well, at least for the purposes of this story ;)**

**July 2013**

The mid-July sun was hotter than Emily remembered from any summer in her almost forty-three years of life. She knew it was really the humidity that killed more than the scorching rays, though. Her light yellow sundress clung to her damp skin, its fabric billowing in the whisper of a breeze that did nothing in the way of making it easier to breathe on her walk down the dirt path.

Even when the heat wasn't oppressive, it was never easy to breathe here. She'd been here several times directly after Hotch's passing, unable to keep from tormenting herself. As she thought back now, she wondered what she must have looked like, her belly growing and growing with each visit. And then she realized she didn't even remember much of her pregnancy. The depression had been almost crippling. It had recently cost her her job in Philadelphia, where she still lived only because of Jack.

If not for Jack, she might have taken care of the problem when it presented itself in the form of pounds melting from her body that couldn't afford to lose them, the constant sickness, the loss of interest in what would normally be an exciting new job. If not for Jack, she would have put her life on hold, would have taken the time to face her problem head on. Instead, she'd remained too proud to admit that she hadn't handled the aftermath of Hotch's death with as much dignity as she'd hoped. She'd treated the pain, the fatigue, the hopelessness like it was all part of the process. She hadn't popped a single pill until Sean had practically forced her into the passenger seat of his car and driven her to a doctor.

She looked down at the little girl resting on her hip, her chubby arms around her mother's waist as she bounced with each of Emily's steps. Soft waves of light brown hair framed her round face, complete with her mother's pointed nose and her father's hazel eyes.

Emily wished she'd taken the time to remember more of her pregnancy, but maybe it was better this way. Finally seeing her very late period as something other than a sign of extreme stress, going out to the drugstore for that pregnancy test, seeing the positive result and realizing no one else was in the room with her. None of it was worth remembering. It all just made her feel more alone, made her long for Hotch even more.

The baby girl, six months old as of a few days ago, swatted her mom on the stomach and started blowing raspberries with her tongue. Emily smiled and gazed lovingly down at her and Hotch's creation, who was growing a little restless. It had been a long journey in the car from Philadelphia to D.C., where Hotch was buried, and little Abigail hadn't slept a wink the entire way. "After this, we'll take you to Grandma and Grandpa's and you can sit down and play, okay?" Emily said, hoisting the baby up at her side so she could press her lips to her forehead. "Mommy just needs to introduce you to someone first. We're almost there."

The tears didn't force their way through until Emily saw the gravestone. Only a year old, it still told her in crystal clear engraving whose eternal resting place it marked.

This had been a mistake, bringing Abigail here. What would this mean to a baby? But it would mean everything to Hotch, she reminded herself. He'd offered to give this to her, once upon a time. A child. A piece of him. A way to move on, to start a new life in more way than one. Abigail was all of those things and more.

Emily had never imagined she would be introducing Hotch to his only daughter on this day. Before his passing, and before she'd realized she would be expecting a baby—due only about a year after Hotch had found out about the cancer in the first place—Emily had envisioned bringing just herself, a handful of tissues, and some fresh flowers.

"Hi," she said in a shaky whisper, standing at the foot of his grave, with no bench close enough. "I'm sorry, I—I would have brought more flowers. I know I haven't come to see you since, what, January?" She sniffled. "That's because there's someone I'd like you to meet. And she's getting a little heavy for one arm, so I couldn't carry any flowers."

On cue, Abigail squealed gleefully and yanked on her mother's dress.

"This is Abigail. Abigail Jean. She's our little girl, Hotch. She's ours. I know I went crazy that one day and asked you for a baby and you reminded me of how much I didn't want one, but…I'm so glad this happened. I'm so sorry I didn't bring her here sooner, but life's just been…crazy. And I never knew when the right time would be. Oh my goodness, what am I even talking about?" Emily said, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure you've been watching over us. You know all about her. How she wakes me up at five o'clock every morning and already looks like she's thinking about crawling and making my life ten times more interesting. Of course you know."

Emily stopped talking and studied the gravestone, thinking back on the morning when she'd woken up to her brother-in-law saying her name to rouse her. Hotch had taken his final labored breath while she'd slept solidly for the first time in weeks. She'd come close to murdering Sean for heeding Hotch's last dying wish and not waking her. And then she'd proceeded to take the next few days trying to figure out how to mourn properly.

Her daughter's boredom babbling brought her back to the present, where Hotch's last day was set in stone. Forever. "I miss you so much," she breathed, gulping before the sobs racked her frail frame. "Oh, God, I wish this was all just a dream. Why can't you be here with us? And why am I not okay? Why hasn't our baby magically made me feel alive again?"

"Found her."

Emily whipped her head around, looking to see if someone had just spoken to her. It was Rossi. He had his phone pressed to his ear. "See you soon," he said quietly before ending the call.

"It's your Uncle Rossi," Emily said to Abigail with a watery smile, waving at Rossi. "He's been traveling the world since your daddy passed away. In fact, he hasn't met you yet."

"Hey," Rossi said, approaching with his hands tucked unthreateningly in his pockets. "I just got off the phone with Sean. He was scared out of his wits. Thought you guys were making the drive together, showed up at your place to pick you up, and you weren't there. He's been looking high and low for you. He's already almost here."

Emily raised an eyebrow. Perhaps she had some vague memory of making such an arrangement with Sean for their visit to the cemetery on the first anniversary of Hotch's death. It sounded like something to which she would have agreed.

"I guess I…I guess I forgot," Emily said, her cheeks heating up. She wondered how on earth Rossi could be more interested in her than in her baby, though. "I guess it's finally time for you to met Abigail, now that you're back in town again."

"Abigail?"

Emily laughed. "Of course. She's right here." Emily placed her hands under Abigail's arms and held her out.

"Emily…who's Abigail?"

"Rossi, stop it. It's not funny." Emily held the baby close again and walked over to meet Rossi. "You know today's not the day for jokes."

Rossi's eyes looked inexplicably sad. Of course, Hotch had been his best friend. He had a reason to be especially sad today, just like Emily did. But it was a sadness of a more surprised variety.

"She's your best friend's daughter and you've been too busy traveling to see her," Emily said impatiently. "I know—I know we've all needed to grieve in our own ways, but you didn't have to take off, you know. Not for so long. Here, hold her."

Tears lined Rossi's eyes as he finally conceded and reached out his hands. Emily finally smiled again when she saw her daughter finally with her dear friend. "She's…beautiful," Rossi said, looking down into his arms. "Just look at her."

"I'm sorry I snapped," Emily said meekly, brushing her hand up and down Rossi's arm. "Today's just so hard."

"I know," Rossi said, circling his free arm around Emily's back. "I know it's hard. How about we go grab some lunch, catch up a little? Maybe come back a little later, once Sean gets here?"

"That sounds like a great idea," Emily said. She turned back to face Hotch's grave, licking her lips and thinking, _I'll be back. I promise_.

Rossi's car was parked right next to hers. "Do you, uh…wanna take your car?" he asked.

"Just meet me there, wherever that is," Emily said, holding her arms out for the baby. Rossi held his arms out, too, looking more concerned than ever.

"I think it's best if we drive together," Rossi said. "In fact, why don't you let me get behind the wheel? You had a long drive. You must be exhausted."

"Oh, good idea, thanks. My eyes are kind of tired."

Once everyone was settled in, Rossi used his phone to send a text message and tucked it back in his pocket. "How about I make you lunch?"

"You still haven't sold your place here?" Emily said.

"Market sucks. I got back a few days ago and I've been staying there. Fridge full of food."

"Sounds good."

"So…how are things?" Rossi asked. "Liking the new apartment all right?"

"It's a little smaller than the house…okay, a lot smaller, but it's nice. Would've been nicer if I didn't let my depression take such a death grip on me and I still had my job and my house," she muttered darkly.

Rossi cupped his friend's shoulder. "It happens to the best of us."

Emily covered her quivering lips and nodded. "If it weren't for Sean and Jessica helping me out, I don't know what I'd be doing. None of the treatments are working, and no one wants to hire someone who can't even get herself out of bed for the interview."

"Maybe…you should think about traveling with me for a while. I was thinking of heading out to Egypt, and maybe Israel. I could use a friend to keep me company."

"I don't know, Rossi. I'd love to, but I can't even afford to pay my own rent right now. My savings are gone."

"I'd be happy to pay your way. Maybe you just need some time away," Rossi said.

"Well…maybe I'll think about it. You sure about traveling with a baby, too?"

"Oh. Of course. The more the merrier," Rossi said. "We can get her passport stamped up before she's even old enough to know where Disney World is."

Rossi's house wasn't much further. Once he pulled into his driveway, he got out of the car and stood by to see what Emily would do. She got out of the car and went into the backseat to get the baby that wasn't there. She walked up to the front door of the house unevenly, as if truly carrying an extra fifteen pounds on her left arm. "Oh, you know what? I have a pack-and-play and a diaper bag in my trunk. Could you grab them?"

Rossi's eyes were flowing with tears by the time an imaginary playpen was set up in his living room.

"I know, I hate today, too," Emily said understandingly yet cluelessly, wrapping her arms around Rossi and letting herself cry again, too.

"Don't worry about me."

"When's Sean getting in?" Emily asked.

"He left not long after you, just recently thought to call me when you wouldn't pick up and no one else knew where you were. He figured you were at the cemetery."

"Oh, I feel awful," Emily said, setting her baby down to play. "I need to go use the bathroom. If she starts screaming when I leave, don't worry. She'll stop in a second."

"Sure."

The break happened in the bathroom, as Emily was washing her hands. She saw her face straight on in the mirror and noticed something uneven in her eyes. Upon leaning in and inspecting more closely, she discovered she had eyeliner around both eyes, but mascara only on her right lashes. Why on earth had she forgotten to finish the makeup on one eye? she wondered. She retraced her steps from the morning but suddenly couldn't remember anything between brushing her teeth and seeing herself in the mirror right now. In fact, she no longer knew whose bathroom she was in. Her heart thrashed in her chest as she hurried out into the hall.

The terrified look on Emily's face clued Rossi in immediately. He swiftly stood and guided her over to the couch. "It's okay," Rossi said.

"Rossi, what's going on? Why am I at your house?" Emily said, panting, already coming to, already having forgotten all about the baby. "Rossi…"

"Is this the first time you've had…an episode like this?" Rossi asked.

Emily nodded. "As far as I know. How did I get here?"

"Can you promise me you'll stay calm?"

"Just tell me," Emily snapped. "God, just tell me. What's wrong with me?" she said with a quavering voice.

"It's okay, it's okay. Calm down. You're just fine."

Just then, the doorbell rang and someone frantically knocked before the chime had even gone silent.

"I'll be back in five seconds," Rossi promised. He came back into the living room with Sean, whose eyes were red.

"Thank God you're okay," Sean said, letting out a sigh of relief. "You can't just take off like—"

"She just came to," Rossi interjected. "Give her a second, don't jump down her throat."

"Why are you here, too, Sean? Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Emily pleaded, digging her nails into her kneecaps. "Did I just…come out of some sort of fugue state? I can't remember anything after six or seven this morning when I was getting ready."

"I think that's what happened, yes. Some sort of fugue," Rossi said. The men flanked her on the couch, each taking a hand.

"Please tell me how I got here. Tell me what I said to you, Rossi."

The man sighed and gave an audible sniffle. "I got a call from Sean, saying he was supposed to pick you up at your apartment so you guys could make the trip together. He got to your place and you weren't there. Your car was gone and you wouldn't pick up your phone. He figured you'd come here without him, and he called around until someone answered."

"JJ didn't answer her phone? Garcia? Morgan? Reid? Why?" Emily asked.

"Sounds like the team's busy on a case. I dunno," Sean said.

"Then what happened?" Emily asked.

"Well, I found you at the cemetery. I'd made my visit already this morning and I was at home. I went back out to the cemetery and I saw you there…" Rossi's voice trailed off and he loosened his grip on Emily's hand.

"Whatever it is you don't want to tell me, please tell me," Emily said firmly.

"You…you thought you had a baby. Yours and Aaron's."

Emily yanked her hands away and covered her face with them, embarrassed and ashamed and devastated beyond measure. "What was I doing? What did I say the baby's name was?"

"I don't think it's important—" Rossi started.

"Please, tell me, Rossi. I can handle it. I just need to know."

"You were…leaned over a little like you were holding a baby, had your hands positioned that way, too. You told me her name was Abigail. You got a little upset when I didn't know who she was, but once I played along and calmed you down, I got you to agree to come to my place so I could make you lunch. When we got here, you thought you were setting the baby down to play, then you went to the bathroom and came back out pretty much lucid."

Emily was mortified. "What do you mean, you _played along_?"

"You insisted I hold the baby, so I pretended to hold a baby. You told the baby she hadn't met me because I'd been traveling, so I went along with that, too. Offered to take you on a trip with me. I just…didn't want to snap you back into reality. I didn't have the means to handle you on my own if you came to and you wouldn't listen, so I decided to let it go on until you came to on your own or until I could get help. But you came to on your own. That's good, Emily. The episode was only a few hours. It's okay."

"Easy for you to say. You didn't drive five hours and fabricate a child," Emily said, slowly rising from the couch and beginning to pace the large room.

"You know depression can result in fugues," Rossi said. "Remember what you know. This isn't necessarily indicative of anything more. You're on the wrong medication, I'm sure. We'll get it straightened out."

"You won't be alone for a second until we have some answers, all right?" Sean said.

"That's all I do want, though," Emily said. "I don't want you guys to see me like this. I'm going insane."

"We're two of your best friends. This is a safe place," Rossi reassured her. "No one's judging you, and you're most certainly not going insane. We'll just call up your psychiatrist and set up an appointment, okay?"

"Can you please tell me what's real?" Emily said, crushing the heel of her hand into her forehead. "I suddenly feel like…whatever it is I know about myself could still be part of the fugue. I just…I need to know for sure. Give me the gist of what's really happened since Hotch died."

Sean and Rossi exchanged wary glances. Sean started, as he had spent the most time with Emily over the past year, especially in the early days after Hotch's passing.

"You and I stayed at Aaron's apartment for a few weeks, I went back to New York, you moved out to Philly for that ViCAP job…splitting up time with Jack, just like you planned."

"And then it got bad?" Emily said dreamily.

"Yeah. A couple months in, you'd lost more weight, didn't wanna do anything outside of work, and that was if you even went. You were calling off maybe once a week at that point. I…I convinced you to see a grief counselor, you know, just so you'd have someone to talk to. And I think that made it worse," Sean explained with a cough to loosen up his constricting throat. "I think the more you talked about him, the worse it got."

"That wasn't your fault," Emily said, turning to face her friends again. "You know I hate when you blame yourself for that. It's my messed up head. You were doing the only thing you knew to do. But…keep going. I'm sorry, I need to hear the rest, just to be sure." Her palms were soaked with a panicky sweat.

"Okay," Sean said uncertainly. "Your grief counselor referred you to a psychiatrist so you could undergo some treatment, but you refused to go. In the meantime, Jack stopped wanting to come see you, which broke your heart because the only reason you didn't wanna go through the treatment in the first place is because you didn't want Jack to ever know you hadn't been able to handle everything on your own."

This particular memory forced Emily to sit down again. She remembered Jack and her situation with him much more clearly than she had in her fugue state. She still saw him occasionally, but it was difficult to align her good days with his schedule when she could control neither. She'd given up the remainder of her life to be by his side, and it had apparently been for naught.

"That…of course made it even worse, and you went a couple days without returning my calls," Sean continued. "I was worried, so I came to Philly and dragged you to that psychiatrist. They didn't do walk-ins without suicidal thoughts or attempts, so I may have told a little lie, got you in the door, and corrected it with the shrink. She wasn't impressed, but she saw you. You finally let her start you on some antidepressants. You'd hit rock bottom, so you caved. She said the first few weeks on the medication carried a higher risk of…of suicidal tendencies, once you started to get your energy and motivation back, so I took some time off work and came to stay with you.

"First few weeks went by okay, and you were starting to feel better, but then they let you go at work because you were missing too much. I tried to convince you to tell them it was a medical problem so you could get FMLA or sue their asses for wrongful termination, but you didn't see the point, and you started back at square one, tried a bunch of different medications as time went on. After a few months, I moved to Philly permanently, slept in your guest bedroom, but then you started scraping the bottom of your savings so I suggested you sell the house and get an apartment. We both did, actually, and I currently live down the street from you. Jack comes to see you for sleepovers every couple of weeks, I have a couple steady jobs, and…well, that's about it."

"No, that's not it," Emily said somberly. "Jessica took care of selling the house for me and you helped me get an apartment, and you guys've been paying my rent and everything else ever since because I'm too sick to get a job and too proud to go on disability."

"Actually," Rossi said cautiously, "we've…all been chipping in. So it hasn't been a burden on any one person."

"Now's not really the time to go spilling the beans, and I don't think that's gonna make her feel better," Sean mumbled.

"It should," Rossi said. "You need to know that we all love you and all we want is for you to get better."

"How could you be sending money to pay my rent when I won't even see any of you because I'm so ashamed?" Emily asked incredulously. "I've pushed you and JJ and Garcia and Reid and Morgan and even my parents completely out of my life. I'm disgusting. No wonder I made up that lie about you traveling."

"To be fair, I have traveled a bit," Rossi said, trying to reel Emily back in. "You didn't dissociate completely. Part of reality stayed with you, and that's good. Yeah, you wouldn't see me or pretty much anyone else except Sean, but I'd probably react the same way in your shoes. Nobody faults you. None of us knows how devastated you really are. None of us pretends to understand. We just want you to get better. You've kind of been going through a revolving door with psychiatrists in Philly lately. And we've been wondering—"

"Dude, now's not the time," Sean hissed. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"This needs to be brought up while she's open-minded about it," Rossi insisted.

"What, you want to put me away somewhere?" Emily said flippantly. When no one argued, a fresh wave of tears rolled down her cheeks and she directed her blurred eyes out the nearest window, at a neighbor mowing his lawn. "I guess I understand. I'm living off your money and not getting any better."

"It has absolutely nothing to do with money," Rossi said. "If you got better and you wanted to travel the world instead of going back to work, I think we'd all give you all the money you needed. Our only wish is that you get better."

"It's been—so long since I've felt like myself," Emily choked. "This is like the world's longest nightmare."

"One you can wake up from," Rossi said. "You're tough as nails. You can get through this. I know you can. If you want it bad enough, you'll just let them keep trying different treatments until they find what works."

"I've lost track of how many pills I've been on," Emily said. "I have no idea."

"There are other treatment options," Sean said. "Not just medication. Even just some intense counseling could be what you need."

"I'll do it. This isn't fair to you guys, and I really miss Jack," Emily said with a loud sniffle and a bit more spirit than she'd felt in weeks, now.

"Don't do it for us," Sean said. "Just for you. And if that means for Jack, then for him too."

Emily nodded and leaned to the side against a wall, her back to Sean and Rossi. "Will you guys grant me…one kind of last-ditch effort?"

"No one's making you do anything," Sean said. "Whatever you want. What is it?"

"I just…want to see one more psychiatrist. I need a twentieth opinion. Maybe they can do scans on my head or something. They've always assumed the root cause is Hotch and I'm sure they're right, but what if it's something no amount of therapy would ever fix?"

"If it'll make you feel better," Rossi said. "Can I call Garcia and see who she knows from her support group around here, or would you rather see someone in Philly?"

"I think I've seen the best Philly has to offer. Maybe it's time to try here," Emily said. "But don't bug Garcia. She only screens calls when she has to, so she's obviously busy."

"You're more important to her than just about anyone else," Rossi said. "But okay," he added when Emily nearly glared at him. "I'll shoot her a text and ask her to call me when she has a few minutes free. Is there anything you'd like to do today?"

_Die_, Emily thought, as she had so many times before. "Maybe—maybe go back to the cemetery. In my right mind, you know. If one of you could drive me, in case I lose my marbles again, I'd appreciate it."

"We'll take you anywhere you want to go, if you'll do us one little favor and have some lunch first," Rossi said.

"Don't negotiate," Sean snapped at Rossi. "Stop turning it into a transaction. Emily, we'll take you whether or not you eat lunch, all right?"

"Will both of you please stop treating me like I'm a child or like I'm not in the room? Just talk to me like you would anyone else. I can handle it."

"We're sorry," Rossi said. "Do you want something to eat?"

"Not right this second. And sorry I snapped," Emily said.

"Not a problem," Rossi said. "I wasn't thinking. Want us both to go with you, or…?"

"Sean hasn't been yet," Emily said. "Still want to go? Or would you rather go on your own?"

"I'd be happy to take you," Sean replied.

"I'll scrounge something up in case you're hungry when you get back, and I'll get in touch with Garcia. Take all the time you need."

Emily thought about where she'd left her purse, not seeing it anywhere. She wondered if she had only imagined it, and then she felt her gut rumble in disgust at remembering that she'd walked into Rossi's house pretending to carry an imaginary baby. She fought off the urge to vomit, then followed Sean outside.

"Sorry I'm being a dick," Sean said once they were out of Rossi's neighborhood. "To both of you."

"After the way I've…used you? Treat me however you want," Emily said miserably.

"You act like we all don't owe you our sanity," Sean said in amazement. "You're the only one of us who didn't somehow fail Aaron. You were never the brother who waited too long to get to know him, or the friend who turned into a stranger when things got difficult. Hell, even…even Jack hurt him. I know he's a kid and he couldn't help it, but you saw how much faster that killed Aaron when Jack said he didn't wanna be around him anymore. You know exactly what that feels like now. Firsthand. But Aaron still…died peacefully because you were by his side twenty-four-seven. You gave him almost everything you had, and then you gave Jack the very last bit, and look where that's landed you. Nobody holds you accountable for this, Em. Nobody."

"Can I tell you something?" Emily barely managed to say, her throat nearly closed off.

"Anything."

"Never mind," Emily said after a second thought. "I'm sorry, it's…not something I want to share."

"You sure? You know I don't judge."

Emily opened up Sean's glove box, found a clean fast food napkin, and covered her nose with it. "I'm sure. And I really am so sorry for how much grief I've put you guys through. Especially you. Walking away from your job again? That was way beyond the call of duty."

"Don't be sorry. You would've done the same for me if I needed someone. Right?"

"Absolutely. That doesn't change the fact that I wish this would all just…go away."

"What do you mean?" Sean asked, worried.

"Just that I…could get better. I'm sick of being sick, and it's…it's not fair to Hotch's memory not to be trying with everything I have in me. He held on as long as he absolutely could. I need to do the same, right? I obviously had enough energy to…make up a baby and drive five hours from home to introduce her to my dead husband. I must have some energy left."

Sean didn't react at all to Emily's words. They spent the rest of the drive in silence. "You go ahead first," he said. "Take all the time you need."

"Are you sure?" Emily said. Sean nodded and folded his hands behind his head. "Okay. Thanks."

Emily was grateful for her inability to remember her dissociative episode, as it was disturbing to think of walking to Hotch's grave under the delusion that she carried their child with her. She passed by Haley's neighboring grave first, then stood where she had a short time ago.

_Aaron J. Hotchner._ _Loving Husband and Father. Courageous Leader and Fierce Protector. November 2, 1965—July 15, 2012._

After a long stare, she took a deep, quavering breath and clasped her hands in front of her stomach.

"Hi. It's really me this time."

**To Be Continued**

**A/N: One more chapter. Please leave a review! Thank you for reading!**


	2. Panic

**A/N: This is NOT the last chapter. I swear, it wont turn into an epic or anything, but it needs 1 or 2 more chapters after this. **

After that, Emily was at a loss for words. How could she tell the love of her life just how hopeless she'd felt for the past year? How could she tell him how much worse it had gotten in the six months since she'd last visited his grave? She saw him in dreams, still quite frequently, but there was no doubt in her mind that those dreams were only what she wanted them to be. She was now a pro at lucid dreaming and could dream just about anything that came to mind if the time was right.

A breeze, cooler and more forceful than before, heightened her senses again, reminding her that she was in a public place and anyone could walk by and see her simply standing there. Then again, she was used to that. Being underweight and constantly looking like she'd pulled an all-nighter often garnered some stares.

"I don't…know what to say," she confessed, rolling her watery eyes. "I thought that maybe standing here and talking to you would give me some sort of epiphany, or at least make me feel a little more hopeful. God, I miss you. Please wake me up. This has to be a nightmare. Just wake me up," she said with a sniffle, fighting the knot that blocked her throat. "Wake me up and tell me it was all just a bad dream. I don't know how else to interpret this. Every day is such a…living hell. I know you wanted me to be okay, and I thought I would be. I thought that if enough time went by, I'd be just fine. But I never understood depression until now, Hotch. Most days I can't even get dressed anymore, and it's not because I don't want to. It's not because I _want_ to lie around and watch TV and nap all day and have people think that I'm lazy and that I feel sorry for myself. It's because I just don't have the energy.

"I guess maybe me completely losing it and coming here today by myself was a miracle in that sense. I rarely ever drive anymore, so it's amazing I even got this far. But maybe it's a good sign, you know? I mean, fugues are never really _good_," she said, her cheeks engulfed in a shameful heat, "but maybe I just needed to know that that energy exists within me somewhere. If I could…take care of myself again, get a job, get myself back on track, that would be amazing. I wouldn't have to depend on anyone anymore. I know I'm sucking the life out of Sean, especially. He never signed up for this and it's not fair."

Emily turned back to see Sean's black car off in the distance.

"God, Hotch, what've I done to him? Some days I…" Emily looked to either side and behind her before continuing with her confession. "Some days I wish I'd just die in my sleep so Sean could move on with the life he wants to live, Jack could be rid of the crazy former stepmom who can't provide for him at all, and I could be with you. I'd never _kill_ myself. I don't think about that. But I can't tell you how hard I wish for that sometimes."

Emily reread Hotch's epitaph a few times, not that she needed to be standing here to do so. Sometime in the weary days following Hotch's death, she'd managed to choose those words. It had been one of her few contributions at the time. Before Hotch's passing, she'd been more concerned with getting in every second she could with Hotch, sleeping a wink here or there when she could. And afterward, she'd had to figure out how to mourn his passing and tend to Jack's shattered heart at the same time. She'd given so much fight then. What had happened?

"I know it must be insulting to you. You fought so hard, right up until the very end. And here _I_ am saying I wish I would die, and I'm not even terminally ill. I have no excuse. I swear I don't want to live like this,. I want to get better. It would be nice to go to sleep and look forward to waking up in the morning. It's been so long since I was eager to get out of bed."

Emily felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of her neck. She took a few steps back, into the shade of some trees she remembered from two funerals. Suddenly, the thought of Haley made her sick.

"What are you doing up there, or wherever you are?" she asked. "Are you…are you with Haley again, or are you waiting for me? I know it's incredibly selfish of me to ask that, but sometimes I wonder if I'm just…pining on my own. Waiting for you when you've moved on."

And now, it felt like exactly that. She was, after all, standing by herself in a cemetery. Talking to a headstone. Sometimes to the sky. Did she expect an answer?

"Maybe I should get going. I know Sean wanted to come and see you. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, even though I guess you already know this kind of stuff, Jack's playing soccer again and his team just won the championship. I…I wish I could say I'd made it to the game, but…it was a bad day. Most of them are now, but that's beside the point. Anyway, I'll say goodbye now, if you're listening."

Emily stepped closer to the shining slab of granite and bunched her skirt in one hand so she could keep it clean while kneeling in the grass. She ran her clammy hands along the cool, smooth surface, her thumb stopping by the word _Husband_.

"Even if you're happy with…someone else right now, even if there's no such thing as sadness in heaven and you're not waiting around, I still love you. I've never stopped and I never will."

—

It was still early afternoon when Sean and Emily arrived back at Rossi's house. As promised, he had lunch waiting for them—pizza from one of the few local places he trusted.

"Hungry?" Sean asked Emily.

"I guess I could eat something," she said, forcing down a slice at the kitchen island.

"Listen, Em, I have to get back to Philly by seven. I've got night shift. Do you wanna stay here and visit or do you wanna come home?"

Emily's heart dropped. She didn't like to think that she needed Sean, didn't like that his sudden departure had her so anxious, but she couldn't hide the apprehension in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Sean said hurriedly. "I tried to get someone to cover for me, given…the circumstances, and I know now that you know Dave's in town you probably wanna have a little longer than a half hour, which is all I've got left. It's up to you. I get out at…two, so I can be back here by seven in the morning. If we can find you an appointment for tomorrow I can come with you."

"Sean, you don't need to—"

"I want to. And honestly, I do need to. Even if I'm not in the room with you, I can't just let you go alone."

"I can go with her," Rossi said.

"That's fine," Sean replied, "but I still need to be there. Anyway, do you wanna stay here tonight?" he asked Emily.

"I…I think it'd be nice to catch up. I just don't have any clothes. Or my meds—oh, my meds—"

"Relax, I grabbed those on my way out of town. They're in my car," Sean said. "And I can bring you a change of clothes in the morning. Sound good?"

"Mind having a houseguest?" Emily asked Rossi.

"I'd love one," Rossi said with a warm smile.

"Okay, then. I'll stay. Are you okay doing all that driving on your own, Sean?" Emily asked.

"That's what coffee's for."

"You won't have gotten any sleep, though—"

"And _that's what's what coffee's for_," Sean repeated. "Don't worry about me."

Emily stopped after one slice of pizza but still stood in the kitchen while Sean and Rossi polished most of the remainder.

"If you're heading out, I think I'm gonna go hop in the shower," Emily said. "I feel all disgusting."

"Use the shower in my room," Rossi advised. "It's so nice you'll never wanna leave."

"Okay. I'll see you in the morning," she said, getting up to give Sean a hug goodbye. "I'm so sorry about everything."

"Don't worry about it," Sean said with a firm embrace. "I wish I could stay. I hate to bail like this, but I'm this close to getting' shitcanned. My boss is an asshole."

"That's enough profanity for one sentence," Emily chided. "And I'll be okay. Rossi's great company. I'll let you know when I've got an appointment made. Maybe it'll be for later than tomorrow and you won't have to make the drive back too soon."

"Make it for as soon as possible. Don't worry about me. See you tomorrow."

"I'll show you out," Rossi said.

Emily showed herself upstairs. Finding Rossi's room was easy. Double mahogany doors sat at the end of the hallway. His bedroom was predictably decorated. Everything was bigger than anyone would ever need. A California king size bed, wide windows on two walls, and large, rustic furniture gracing the rest of the spacious suite, still with plenty of room to spare. Something about being in Rossi's room made her feel safe, even if she'd never been in it before. Perhaps because it reminded her so much of Rossi, and she hadn't realized until today just how much she'd missed him. All of her friends. And her parents. But there would be more days, more chances to try and mend fences. Today, she needed to learn to survive overnight further away from home than she'd been in months. In fact, she hadn't slept outside of her apartment since she'd moved in. Was she making a big mistake in not going home for the night instead?

To reinvigorate herself, or at least to keep the steam from a hot shower clouding the bathroom, she slid open the window that looked out onto the front lawn. She was about to go figure out how to turn on the water in the lavish double-headed shower stall when she heard voices.

Sean's and Rossi's.

She didn't want to eavesdrop, but when she heard that they were talking about her, she couldn't help herself. She stood by the window, her back to its surrounding wall, out of sight and listening intently.

"You don't need to work at a twenty-four hour pizza joint. You're a real chef, for Christ's sake," Rossi was saying. "Let us throw some extra money your way so you can sleep."

"It's fine. I'm used to having two jobs anyway. Keeps me on my toes."

"You really need help in that department?" Rossi said.

Sean sighed. "It's hard, I won't lie. But if I didn't think I could do it, if I didn't think I could take care of her, I'd say something. I mean—I know she's not doing the greatest right now, but if I thought I was spread too thin work-wise, I'd fess up. Really, I'm fine."

"Well, as long as you're sure. What's it like, anyway? Day-to-day life?"

Another unsettled sigh. "It can be rough. Some days it's honestly like watching Aaron all over again. A couple buddies of mine, they know the gist of it, of why I can't go on road trips out of the blue, or stay out drinking all night...and they don't really get it. They think she should just stop feeling sorry for herself, and I kinda wanna smack 'em. It's so much more than missing Aaron. Jessica…she turned Emily's life upside down. No, she took it away. Maybe if Emily had been living here still, with her friends and her parents, she could've bounced back. But when you're trying to handle a loss like that and rebuild your entire life at the same time, how the hell do you even stand a chance?"

"We were all pretty angry when she pulled that, I won't lie," Rossi said. "The job opportunity seemed great, though. Guess it was too good to be true, for her to find a new niche so quickly."

"Anyway, it's just…frustrating when people misunderstand. They think Emily made some choice to bury her head in the sand, but if they knew half the pain she knew _before_ Aaron died, let alone after, they'd be doin' the same goddamn thing, you know? And then they look at me like I'm crazy for sticking around, because she's not my responsibility."

"She's not."

"Maybe not officially, but I did make a promise."

"What promise?" Rossi asked.

"The last thing Aaron asked me was 'Could you stay awhile after I die, at least until the team gets back? I really don't want Emily to be alone, even if she'll shut herself up in the bedroom and not talk to you. I think she needs to know someone's there.,'" Sean rattled off. "And I know that time frame expired a long time ago, but how could I just walk away? I was hardly there for Aaron at all when Haley died, and Jack was growing up not knowing me. I couldn't do that to him again. And I couldn't do that to Emily. She and Jack are the only family I have anymore. And she needs _someone_. And if I'm the only person who's been able to force my way in just a little, then I have to _be_ that someone."

"You're handling quite a bit on your own. Please tell me you leave a little time for yourself, or at least a cigarette here and there," Rossi said.

"I quit that. Emily doesn't want to waste money on something like smoking, and I don't wanna tease her with it, so I just don't smoke either anymore. But speaking of time for myself, I actually am…seeing someone. It's not that serious yet, but I definitely think it could be. I haven't told her anything about Emily yet, though. I'm afraid she'll be like my friends, not understand it, and then the relationship won't go anywhere, because I can't be with someone who doesn't accept this. I just can't."

"Have she and Emily met yet?" Rossi inquired.

"No, I haven't even told Emily yet. And honestly, I dunno if I will. The last thing she needs is to feel like I'm abandoning her. Even after all this time, it's such a delicate situation, you know? I won't even shut my phone off at the movies because even though she doesn't really call to check in on me, I'm worried that she'd call for any old reason and have a meltdown when I don't pick up."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"Not that exact scenario, but yeah…and I get it. If I were her I'd freak out too. Her doctor said she's close to developing an anxiety disorder, too. But who could blame her? It's not like she's got anyone else to go to. She's convinced she's not worthy of your guys' attention because of how she pushed you away. At least up until today, I don't think she would've seen you guys as people she could call in a bind."

"That's our fault," Rossi said quietly. Emily almost didn't hear him.

"No, it's not. You gave her the space she wanted, gave her the money she needed. You're doing everything the only way you know how. I just wish…I wish I knew what to do. Before today, things weren't particularly looking up but at least she wasn't…having delusions. Driving across the state under some other identity. It's insane. It's scary."

Emily had heard enough. She inched the window shut and closed the curtains before stripping off her dress. The zipper was stuck at first, and it took all she had in her not to rip the garment from her body. The scalding water mixed with her tears while she finally got down on her knees in the shower and prayed for an answer.

—

"So," Rossi said, leading Emily out to the back patio a little while later, "what's a day in the life of Emily Prentiss like nowadays?"

The sun's heat was blistering. Even in her dress, Emily knew she wouldn't be comfortable out here for long.

"Lots of nothing," Emily said shamefully. "It's embarrassing, really."

"Why? A lot of bad things happened to you in a very short period of time. Your heart needs a rest. There's no shame in that."

Emily felt patronized but didn't say anything.

"You dressed up," Rossi observed. "That's gotta count for something. It took effort to pick out something nice, and you look great."

"I'm not the one who dressed up," Emily said. "It was my crazy alter ego with the baby who dressed up. You know, I half wonder if I would've come at all today if not for my little episode. There've been times where I've had plans with Sean and Jack, and they come to get me and even though I wanted to go at the time I made the plans, I can't get myself to care. I…I don't know how Sean puts up with it. Honestly. He doesn't deserve to be treated this way. Driving back and forth from Philly to here, three trips within twenty-four hours? All because I'm off my rocker? And then me pushing you guys away. That's not okay either."

"You need to cut yourself a break," Rossi said with a gentle palm on Emily's shoulder. "We're all on your side. No one's getting angry or impatient."

"I am," Emily said hotly. "I want my life back, Rossi. So badly. I want Hotch back, and I guess that's part of the problem. When I say I want my life back, what do I even mean? I don't even know how I enjoyed life before him." She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to bat away the tears, but they poured out anyway. "I'm sorry. I'd love to go an hour without crying. You'd think I'd run out of tears eventually."

"Don't apologize," Rossi said, scooting his metal chair closer and holding his arms wide open. "Nobody blames you. You have to know that."

"I blame myself."

"But you're making an effort. You saw how bad things could really get, and you've decided to get back to trying to solve the problem. That's a good thing."

Emily nodded reluctantly as she backed out of the embrace.

"Can I ask you something?" Rossi asked.

"Of course."

"Why Sean? Of all the people you could've let in, why not one of us? It's not that I'm insulted, just curious."

"Well, he didn't leave me much choice," Emily said. "He wouldn't take no for an answer. And it was…easier, I guess, to let him in because we saw each other twenty-four seven for however many weeks before and after Hotch died. I guess with him it felt less like letting someone in, and more like admitting that nothing had ever changed."

Rossi's eyes were glassy. "We weren't there enough. I wish at least one of us would've made you feel that way. I'm so sorry we failed you."

Emily shook her head frantically. "You didn't. I'm the one who shut you all out. And when Hotch was sick, well…you guys had lives to keep living. My life was with him. I made that decision. No matter how much you loved him, you couldn't marry him. I had him first."

Rossi's lips turned up on one side. "I missed that sense of humor."

"Me too."

They both sat back and relaxed, Emily watching the sun's reflection on the still water in the pool. She checked her watch for the time, but her other self hadn't seen the need for one. "Do you know what time it is?" she asked.

Rossi checked his own watch. "Two. Why?"

"Damn it. I normally take my meds at one. Where did Sean leave them?"

Rossi's eyes widened. "I don't think he left them. We were chatting out front and then he just left. It didn't even cross my mind."

Emily's body rose violently from her chair and she dragged her hands through her damp hair, pacing the side of the pool. "If he turns around now, he'll be late for work."

"I'm sure he won't mind."

"That's the problem, Rossi. He'll never say no, and that's not fair. I'll just…I'll call my doctor, have her fax a prescription to a pharmacy out here. I'll go get my phone."

"Good plan." Rossi followed Emily inside to the air conditioning.

Emily's phone rang against her ear. She tried not to count the rings. The receptionist, upon finally picking up, informed Emily that the doctor was out for the day. Emily tried her doctor's cell but got no answer.

Rossi didn't have time to offer calming words, because his own phone started ringing. "It's Garcia," he said. "I think we could use her right about now."

Unable to handle two things at once, Emily gave Rossi an apologetic look and left the room. With each unanswered call, she felt the walls closing in around her, trapping her, leaving no way out but up, and she sure as hell didn't have the strength to go that way. Finally, the panic set in completely, forcing her to draw deep breaths that quickly turned into hyperventilation. Rossi found her hunched over on the couch, still listening to her doctor's voicemail greeting pick up yet again.

"I'll call you right back, Garcia. Get on that search for me, if you would," Rossi said.

Emily felt dizzy and more helpless than ever, even once Rossi forced her to sit up and tried to set a more natural rhythm of breathing for her. She shook her head when it didn't work, when her body still acted of its own volition without any input from her.

"I'll be right back." Rossi hurried into the kitchen and came back with a paper take-out bag. He placed the opening over Emily's nose and mouth. "Slow it down. Give me…five normal breaths. Just five, and then we can take it off."

Emily nodded, her eyes fearful as she tried her best to heed Rossi's instructions. She set her mind to nothing but one normal breath. Then another. Then another. After three, all she wanted was a deep gulp of oxygen, so she pushed the bag away and filled up her lungs. The hyperventilating picked right back up and it took Rossi ten minutes to convince her to try again. She finally succeeded in giving him five slower breaths through the paper bag, then drew away for fresher air.

"Okay, but easy does it," Rossi said. "Give your lungs time to convert the oxygen. Hold on for a few seconds."

After a few more controlled breaths Emily realized she had a death grip on Rossi's wrists. She relaxed her hold and felt the room open up again.

"You with me?" Rossi asked once Emily was in the clear.

"Yeah, Sorry, I just…my doctor isn't answering, and I—"

"Can you go a couple of hours more? I'm sure Garcia can track down your doctor or find you an irresponsible doctor who'll write you a prescription without seeing you first, but it'd still be a while before a pharmacy would be able to fill it."

Emily's eyes shot from side-to-side. "I—I don't know. Sean's meticulous. If I don't pick up my meds from the pharmacy within a day of them being ready, he does it for me. God, that's pathetic…"

"It'll be quicker to call Sean. He's only an hour out by now."

"No, no," Emily said, blocking the screen on Rossi's phone when he tried to dial. "It's okay. I can wait. Oh, that's my doctor, thank God," she said abruptly when her phone rang.

"Good. I'll go see if I have some chamomile."

"Rossi, wait," Emily said before he left the room.

"Yeah?"

"Can you please…not publicize my incident today? If you have to tell Garcia because it'll make it easier to get me an appointment, then that's fine, but…please ask her not to tell anyone else."

Rossi nodded. "Don't miss that call."

—

Emily was in a pair of oversized drawstring pajama pants and a Marine Corps sweatshirt by the time the summer sun had set. The rest of the day had been eventful. Rossi had driven her to the pharmacy. Sean had called upon his arrival home when he'd realized he'd still had Emily's pills, and she'd had to take her turn to calm him down and keep him from having a panic attack. She'd thought that telling him about her panic attack—or whatever it was—wouldn't help persuade him that everything was all right, so she didn't say a thing. And finally, Garcia had called with the news that Emily had an appointment with a highly recommended psychiatrist for the next day.

Emily was just about to pick a guest bedroom when Rossi received a call from Morgan, who informed him that everyone was back in town and had found out from Garcia that Emily was around. Emily couldn't turn down her friends again, so she agreed to let them visit.

"I don't know what to say to them," Emily admitted, wringing her hands in her lap, curling up with a blanket on the couch.

"Garcia already told them not to ask a lot of questions," Rossi reassured her. "Just…dish out some hugs if you can, and tell them you have a big day tomorrow. I'm sure you'll feel better after your appointment. Maybe you can grab lunch with everyone tomorrow."

"Yeah, maybe," Emily said, although despite not even having met this new psychiatrist, she already had the sinking feeling that all she would want to do tomorrow would be to get back to her apartment and lie in bed. If not to hide, then at least to sleep.

**A/N: Please leave a review! They mean the world to me.**

**It's that time of year! The Profiler's Choice Awards nomination ballot is live! Any story or author needs FOUR nominations in any given category to get on the voting ballot for that category, so nominations are extremely important. Even if you think someone else will probably end up nominating a favorite story or author of yours, don't take that chance. Ballot and rules (please read them!) are here: fanfiction DOT net /topic/74868/69379386/1/**

**Fics _published_, _updated_, OR _completed_ between September 1, 2011, and August 31, 2012, are eligible. Works need NOT be complete. Happy nominating!**


	3. Hope

For a few minutes, Emily had convinced herself that seeing her old friends might be a good thing. But the moment they laid eyes on her pathetic form and she remembered how different she'd become, she wished with all her might that they would just disappear.

But she had an obligation to them, and not just because they'd all been contributing to her living expenses. They had been her best friends for years and hadn't deserved to be shut out of her life like she'd done, no matter how much Rossi insisted they'd all failed her. So she accepted the hugs, even though the ones that lasted too long threatened to suffocate her.

"It's so good to see you," JJ said warmly, sitting down right next to Emily. "What brings you into town?"

Emily saw Garcia draw a slit across her own throat, but the question had already been asked despite Garcia's instructions otherwise. "I, umm…I came to visit Hotch's grave. One year today," Emily said.

"Oh, of course," JJ said. Emily doubted anyone but Rossi had actually remembered. But they had been on a case. She couldn't hold it against them. "Why didn't you tell anyone you were stopping by?"

"What JJ _means_ to say," Garcia cut in, "is that it's a delightful surprise to see your beautiful face, and it's been way too long. We've missed you so much."

"It's really good that you made the drive out," Morgan said. "How'd that go?"

Emily's eyes shifted to the floor, where the carpet fibers didn't ask her a bunch of inane questions. "It was okay. How have you guys been?"

"Not the same without you," Morgan replied.

"_But_ we've been getting by just fine," Garcia said snippily. "No need for a guilt trip, Derek."

"What? I'm not trying to make her feel guilty. I just want her to know she's missed."

"And since it's _her_ choice that we haven't seen her, you're implying you're not happy with that decision," Garcia retorted.

"Enough," Rossi said. "I don't think Derek meant anything by it. Let's just relax."

"Do you like the new apartment?" Reid asked after the world's most painfully awkward pause in a roomful of people who used to be able to read each other's minds.

"Yeah, it's great," Emily said. "And…I just found out today that you guys have all been chipping in, and I don't know what to say. On one level I'm mortified, but on another, I'm extremely grateful. I guess I assumed Sean and Jessica had enough to pay for it. I've been a lot more naive than normal lately. I guess my capacities just aren't what they used to be. It never clicked with me, and I'm sorry."

"We didn't want you to know," JJ reassured Emily, stroking her back. "We didn't want you to feel guilty or anything like that. And you shouldn't. With the costs split among all of us and your parents, it really doesn't amount to much. And we're happy to help however we can."

"Yeah," the other three visitors said in unison.

"How long are you staying?" Morgan asked.

"I don't know, probably until sometime tomorrow," Emily said. "I…have an appointment in the morning," she had to confess. After all, her friends were now footing the bills for these visits. "I'm looking for a new psychiatrist. I haven't had the best of luck in Philly. Garcia helped me find an appointment here."

"Has anything changed?" JJ asked. "Did something happen?"

Emily's heart raced and she felt a cold sweat through the flannel of the pants she wore. Her palms had soaked them through. Her breathing sped up, the anxiety building from the pressure of assuaging her friends' worries when she couldn't even take care of her own. "I'm sorry, guys, I need a minute. Will you excuse me?"

Emily knew she left a trail of concerned stares in her wake, but she couldn't be in the room anymore. She fled to the kitchen, drawing in a few quick, deep breaths, but Rossi caught her. "Slow down," he said, guiding her out the back door of the house. "Easy does it."

Emily shook her head, reaching for the door handle to get back inside once the oppressive heat hit her. "I—can't—breathe—too—humid—"

Rossi hurriedly let Emily back inside and watched her grasp the counter while she tried her best to fight off the attack. She caught a glimpse of her friends standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room.

"Is there anything we can do?" Garcia asked, tears in her eyes. She wasn't alone in that respect.

"I think you should all go. It's been a pretty rough day," Rossi said gently. When no one moved, he repeated himself harshly. "_Go_."

The house was empty save for Emily and Rossi in a matter of ten seconds, but Emily was too far gone by then. After another fifteen minutes of sheer terror, she was able to rise from the hellish state where no breath seemed to be enough.

"Do you have anything for the anxiety?" Rossi asked.

Emily shook her head. "It's never gotten nearly this bad. Probably because I'm rarely more than a few miles from home, and I usually don't have to explain myself to people. Not to sound whiny, that's just what's stressing me out, that's all."

"I completely understand. Wanna try and get some sleep now that you're calm?"

Emily nodded. "Yeah, I'm exhausted. Sorry, I wish I were better company."

"We need to train that word out of you," Rossi grumbled.

—

As comfortable as Rossi's nicest guest bedroom was, it wasn't home. So no matter how tired Emily was, all she could think about was how the sheets didn't smell right, how there wasn't enough noise coming from outside, how there wasn't a television in the room to keep her company. She tossed and turned until she finally heard Rossi go to bed. Resigned to the fact that sleep probably wouldn't come to her in a strange place, she crept downstairs to make sure Rossi hadn't gone back down, then turned on the living room television. Just as she was getting to the channels with which she was familiar, Sean called.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Hey, I'm on a quick break right now. How's it going?"

Emily chewed the dry skin on her bottom lip. "Okay."

"It's getting late. Aren't you tired?"

"Can't sleep," Emily said, unable to lie to Sean anymore. "The team came over and I…I couldn't handle seeing them."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I know it would've been a long ride, but maybe it would've been better if you'd come home tonight instead."

"Yeah, probably."

"There's something you're not telling me," Sean said. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," Emily said. She realized she needed to tell Sean about the hyperventilation, but now wasn't the time. She could tell him when she saw him in the morning.

"Okay," Sean said, disheartened. "I'll be back in time for your appointment. See you in the morning. Got my phone on me if you need me."

"Thanks. 'Night."

Maybe it was the infomercial she'd seen a hundred times by now, but something about being in the living room lulled Emily, made sleep a possibility again. She grabbed the blanket she'd been using earlier and wrapped herself up from head to toe, finally drifting off.

—

_Everything was white. Absolutely everything. _

"_Is this it? Am I dead?" Emily asked Hotch; she knew he stood right behind her. _

"_What do you think?" he asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Unlike most others' hugs, his wasn't the least bit suffocating. It opened up her lungs, let the fresh air come pouring in._

"_I'm dreaming," Emily realized. "God, I hate that. I miss when I could just…dream about you, and not know I was dreaming until I woke up."_

"_Why? That was torture."_

"_Some of those dreams were so nice while they were happening, though. You know, when you would sit down with me and tell me everything was okay, or when we would go for walks together and not say anything, or when we'd make love…"_

"_We can still do any of those things. Your choice."_

"_I want this," Emily said, turning in Hotch's arms. "Just hold me and tell me I'm not crazy."_

"_You're not crazy," he said, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Not at all. Things will get better. Soon, I promise. I love you."_

_Emily buried her face into the crook of Hotch's neck and bawled. "I just want it to be over. Were you there today, when I talked to you at your grave?"_

"_Of course. I'm with you all the time."_

"_Can you answer my question, then? About whether you're waiting for me, or you're with Haley?"_

"_Of course I could, but this is all just in your head, so what would be the point?"_

_ —_

"Emily, it's time to get up."

Sean's familiar voice was accompanied by him squeezing her shoulder a little. "Huh?" she asked, snapping awake in Rossi's living room.

"It's time to get up, get ready. Gotta leave for your appointment in forty-five minutes. Figured that gives you time for breakfast and a shower."

Emily groaned and forced herself into a sitting position. "Did you by chance bring me those clean clothes?"

"Sure did. Brought a few different outfits to choose from, or in hopes that something matches. You know me. And I grabbed all your makeup and toiletries."

"Thank you so much," Emily said.

"I'm so sorry about forgetting to leave your meds. I still can't believe I did that," Sean said, taking a seat next to Emily.

"They're not your responsibility," Emily said, shaking her head. "I forgot, too. Please, don't blame yourself." _Now how am I supposed to tell him? It'll ruin him_, she thought.

"Dave told me about what happened, with you hyperventilating," Sean said, saving Emily the trouble. "I knew there was something you weren't telling me on the phone and I pried it out of him. So don't be mad at him."

Emily wasn't mad. Surprised, maybe. As far as she knew, Sean didn't have any special skills in forcing the truth out of anyone. Maybe Rossi didn't trust that she'd ever tell Sean and thought he needed to know.

"I was going to tell you today. I just didn't know how without making you feel guilty all over again. It wasn't just not having my meds, it was being away from home, having everyone come over, the anniversary, obviously…I'm sure it would've happened no matter whether I had my meds, is the point I'm trying to make."

Sean nodded somberly. "I guess I'll skip the repeated apology, then. You know it's implied. Want some breakfast?"

"Thanks, but I'm not all that hungry," Emily said. "Why don't you take a quick nap? You've been up for what, a day now?"

"Coffee coffee coffee," Sean chirped.

—

Emily settled into yet another leather chair. Sean and Rossi waited diligently outside for moral support and in case she truly needed someone to step in and answer questions for her. But so far, so good. She at least got as far as introducing herself.

"I've got a lot of connections with Agent Garcia," the psychiatrist explained. "I was more than happy to help a friend of hers out. Former coworker, actually, correct?" Emily nodded. "My notes say here that you've suffered from depression for several months following the death of your husband."

Emily grabbed a tissue for the tears that were already forming. "Yes. It was a year ago yesterday."

"I'm so sorry for your loss. I understand you suffered from what you called a dissociative fugue yesterday. Can you tell me what happened?"

Emily nodded again. "I had plans to visit my husband's grave with his brother, Sean, and the last thing I remember before I slipped into the fugue state was putting on my eye makeup. I was only partly done, and next thing I know, I'm in my friend's bathroom five hours from home, and I don't know what's going on. He told me what he knew.

"Apparently my former brother-in-law came to get me at my apartment to make the trip here from where we live in Philadelphia, and I'd already left, so he called my friend, agent Rossi, who lives here. Agent Rossi came to the cemetery and found me there, and apparently I introduced him to a baby—one I thought I'd had after my husband died. It was something we'd talked about a couple of times, but he had cancer, was terminally ill…I didn't want to have a baby without him here, and the chances of us conceiving and me having a healthy baby were slim because of all the chemo. Anyway, according to my friend—I don't remember any of this before I came to in his bathroom—I got upset when he didn't know what baby I was talking about. And I was doing some…pretty hardcore pretending. Not just with the baby, but I made up this story that my friend hadn't seen me since the baby's birth because he'd been traveling. Really, I hadn't seen any of my old colleagues—or my parents—because I just didn't want to.

"Anyway, he and Sean walked me through everything right after I came to. And they also revealed to me that since I lost my job several months ago, my parents and all of my friends have been paying for everything. My rent, food, clothes, therapy, medication. And Jack, well, you don't know about Jack."

The psychiatrist shook her head. "Why don't you start a little earlier, tell me about your husband while he was alive, and then work your way forward?"

Emily nodded and took quite a while to tell every detail she thought pertinent, starting at Hotch's diagnosis. Even Frankie got a mention.

"And here we are today, with your anxiety symptoms getting worse."

"Yeah. I'm sure the anniversary was a trigger for the fugue state. And I hate that it happened, but maybe it was supposed to be my wakeup call. I just…I want to get better. I really do. I just don't know how. I'm so…exhausted from all of it and I want to believe there's a way out, but I don't know how to begin to find it. Sean and Rossi were thinking it might be a good idea for me to look into some inpatient facilities, and I agree. It doesn't sound like fun, but it sounds better than burdening everyone like I have been."

"I understand. You said your other psychiatrists have suggested an anxiety disorder might be developing, and I think we're past that point. I'd like to ask you some questions to help diagnose that, and put you on some medication for that if it's called for. Of course, admitting yourself is your choice. I'll help you take that step if it's what you want, but right now my recommendation is to start treating your anxiety with a medication and seeing if that helps. With that weight off your shoulders, you might find it possible to get your life back on track. Find a job, reconnect with Jack, with your parents, your friends…that's what I'd recommend for now."

"Okay. I was wondering, though…is it possible that this isn't just due to me missing my husband? Could there be some physical cause? I mean, if nothing's been making a real improvement in my depression…I just can't help but wonder. I was hoping I could get some scans done. I know—I know you don't generally want to assume there's something worse than there probably is. That's not how you're trained. But is there any way you could still refer me to a neurologist anyway?"

The psychiatrist thought, sitting back in her chair and clicking her retractable pen against her lip. "You're right, it's not something I would normally do. But I don't think I'm feeding paranoia. You may have a point, and if it will give you peace of mind, if nothing else, then it's worth it. However, without insurance, the scans are very expensive. Even with insurance, some patients struggle with the cost."

"_Spare no expense," Rossi had told her._

"_Don't worry about money. I promise we'll take care of it," Sean had said._

"It's okay," Emily said. "About the cost, that is. I'd like to get the scans."

"All right. I'm pretty sure I can get you an appointment sometime today or tomorrow down the hall in neurology. It might take a while to get an appointment for the scans, though, I know it can get pretty clogged up here. With that settled, I'd like to get on to those questions. I know hyperventilating can be rather terrifying. I'm sure you'd rather not have that happen again, am I right?"

—

Home, sweet home.

Though she nearly hated Philadelphia on principle, and her apartment served as a reminder of all she'd lost, including her mind, Emily's heart still soared at the sight of her own bed. She downed a new cocktail of medicine, including something for anxiety, then crawled underneath her covers and prayed she would wake up somewhere else.

Somewhere white.

It had been wrong of her not to tell her doctor about her extensive desire to die, even if the thoughts had never been suicidal. But she liked the idea of admission to a facility being voluntary, and feared it would be less so if she let the cat out of the bag. She didn't figure a psychiatrist would admit her on that basis alone, but if she felt safe telling a stranger about it, who was to say she wouldn't finally talk to Sean about it? And there was no doubt in her mind that he would pressure her to admit herself if he knew what was really in her heart.

_Stop thinking_, her bed told her. _You have three days before you need to go anywhere. Three glorious days._

_I really need to go back and see my parents,_ Emily thought.

_It's been months and months. What's a few more days?_

—

"How're you feeling?" Sean asked for the dozenth time that week. He and Emily were on their way back to D.C. for Emily's scans.

"More tired than ever, but more relaxed, too, so I guess it's something," Emily said.

"Sleep okay last night?"

"Is fourteen hours okay?"

Sean shot Emily a worried look.

"Don't worry," Emily said dryly, "I woke up a couple of times."

"I wish you wouldn't be so flippant about it all, you know," Sean said.

"I'm sorry, it's just my way of making it less scary, I guess."

"I know. But hey, you were already doing better before you started on the new meds. You got through the appointment without needing me or Dave, and that was awesome. Especially with everything that'd happened the day before."

"I guess. I'm not gonna lie, though, I'm really nervous for today and tomorrow."

"Maybe you shouldn't go see your parents in between the scans and the results, then. You'll already have enough on your mind."

"I should've seen them three days ago when I was first in town. I need to do it today. Are you staying in town for the night?"

"Yeah, I was gonna grab a hotel."

Emily sensed a hint of bitterness in Sean's voice. Unintended and unchecked, of course. "You didn't have anything else going on, did you?"

"Nope."

"Nothing going on with…that girl you're kind of seeing?"

Sean gripped the steering wheel extra tight. "How'd you find out about her?"

"When I went upstairs at Rossi's to shower the other day, I cracked the window just so the bathroom wouldn't fog up, you know, and I heard you guys talking outside. I couldn't help, it I heard my name. I hate that I eavesdropped. I really do."

Sean's jaw shifted menacingly, but he calmed himself. "I think it's best if you just forget what you heard."

"That's a little easier said than done. I come between you and your friends, between you and someone who might be the love of your life, you never know. Can you just…do me a favor and give it a serious try with her? Don't worry about what she thinks about me. I'm a big girl. And if she's worth having, she'll understand why you do what you do, even if it's not the choice she would've made if she were in your position. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, it makes sense."

"Hopefully it all changes soon. Either these new pills fix things, or I find out it's because of something else and we can fix _that_, or I admit myself and stay until I'm better. In any case, I'll be out of your hair soon."

"Em, you know I don't think about it like that," Sean said, shaking his head. "Like you probably heard me tell Dave, yeah I promised Aaron I'd stick around for you for a while, but if this was just about obligation, I would've bailed a long time ago. You're not a nuisance."

"Okay," Emily said, unconvinced. "Tell me about the girl. What's her name?"

—

The scans were scarier than Emily had anticipated. She hadn't realized just how long they'd need her to lie still, just how enclosed she would feel. She'd never been particularly claustrophobic, but the din of the machine, the chilliness of the room, and having to remove her wedding ring had made her grateful for her new medication. She wasn't sure she would've been able to handle it a few days ago, at least not on a day like the one she'd thought she was a mother.

And speaking of mothers, it was time to see her own. For the first time in eight months, if her math was correct. Sean dropped her off and promised to be on call as always.

She'd contemplated surprising her parents, but had dropped that notion as soon as she realized how rude it would have been. So she'd informed them of her visit ahead of time. Therefore, when she knocked, her mother and father answered the door together.

In a way, they felt like strangers, just like everyone from the team had felt a few days ago. But as soon as her parents' embrace squeezed a few tears from her eyes, she began to feel at home again. She got the apologies out of the way first—apologies for ignoring them, apologies for not knowing they'd been supporting her all this time, apologies for not letting them be her parents.

Unlike when she had waited until the last possible second to inform them of her marriage to Hotch, forgiveness was issued instantly. Apparently, some proper notice and the knowledge that Emily was severely ill was enough to buy her a free pass for everything she'd put them through.

Her mother didn't take her eyes off of her, and her father didn't let go of her hand for even a second. She had to fix her coffee one-handed.

"I have missed you," Emily said, soggy-faced with no idea of when her eyes would be dry again. "I guess I didn't realize just how much until now."

"Move back here, sweetheart," her father pleaded. "Stay with us. Let us be the ones to help you."

"It's not supposed to work that way," Emily said with a pathetic laugh. "You're supposed to get too old to take care of yourselves and then _I'm_ supposed to take care of _you_. I'm too old to come running home now."

"You're never too old," her father said. "And let's face it, that city isn't doing you any favors. You know you were happier here, would've preferred to stay if it weren't for Jack. Stay with us, get back on your feet, and maybe you can start seeing Jack regularly on the weekends again."

Emily gave serious consideration to what her father was saying. There was also the fact that Sean would no longer feel responsible for her, could live his life as he wished. And with a free place to stay and her parents back in her life, her friends could stop giving her their hard-earned money. Moving back in with her parents didn't sound ideal, but these days, nothing did.

"I'll…I'll think about it," she said, nodding. "I really will."

"Good," her mother said. "Now you said there was something you wanted to tell us."

Emily swallowed and took a drink of coffee. "There is. It's about how I ended up here. And it's about why I have this…renewed desire to put this all behind me. It was kind of my tipping point."

She felt her father's grip tighten on her hand, and it gave her the last bit of strength she needed.

—

By some miracle, Emily had actually managed to sleep that night, in her old childhood bedroom. She hadn't once considered staying at her parents' house for the night until they had suggested it. She couldn't justify making the visit and then insisting on sleeping at Rossi's instead when she knew she wasn't quite comfortable there. Besides, what more comforting place could there be at a time like this than the bedroom she had slept in as a little girl? She had of course spent some of her troubled teenage years there, too, but the room was full of warm, innocent memories nonetheless. Some old dolls still sat on her bed, most likely kept there by her mother, but Emily let them stay with her while she slept.

The fact that she'd gotten a solid night's sleep and had mended fences with her parents left her feeling almost motivated to get through the next day. Getting out of bed wasn't quite the task it usually was, and knowing that she had so many people who loved her unconditionally—two of whom waited right downstairs, over the moon that she was finally back in their lives—made it easier to start her day. She figured if she had enough energy leftover after her appointment with the neurologist to go over the results of her scans, she might even try and meet up with the team for lunch. But she tried not go get too ahead of herself.

She shouldn't have been surprised to learn that her parents expected to accompany her to the appointment. She felt a bit childish, being in her forties and bringing three adults with her to an appointment where a doctor would most likely tell her nothing was wrong with her brain or bloodwork and then charge through the nose for it because she was uninsured.

Emily's parents sat down with Sean in the waiting area while she went up to the front desk to sign in. "I'm sorry," the receptionist told her. "There must have been a miscommunication. Dr. Atwell referred you to oncology for your results. That's up on the fourth floor."

Emily felt the familiar walls closing in. She could hear concrete scraping against concrete, and the fluorescent lights above her flickered. "I'm sorry…_oncology_? Did I hear you correctly?"

"Yes, ma'am. You have the right appointment time, just the wrong department."

It was in slow motion that Emily turned back to her family, adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder, tugged at the hem of her blouse. She took a deep breath and tried to make sure it was a slow one.

"What's wrong?" her father asked first.

Emily licked her parched lips, but her tongue simply scraped across them. "I'm supposed to be in oncology instead. We're—we're in the wrong place."

**To Be Continued**

**A/N: Please leave a review! I know not tons of you are reading this, so please make your voices heard. I'd love to know what you think. Thank you! Expect one more chapter.**


	4. The End

"Is she normally like this?"

"_Elizabeth_, what do you _think_?"

"She's depressed, not catatonic, George," Elizabeth snipped at her husband. She then dragged a dining room chair along the hardwood floor and sat down heavily at the table. "What do we do?" she whispered.

"We let her process this and talk about it in her own good time," George said. "She'll talk eventually, right?"

"Yeah," Sean murmured. "It's best if you don't push her. Especially now…this is a totally different ball game. I remember how heartbroken she was when Jack said he didn't really wanna see her anymore."

"Was she like this?" Elizabeth asked.

"It was different. There was a lot of emotion then. This…not so much, obviously."

Emily lay on her fully made childhood bed. If she stared long enough at the ugly pattern on the upholstered chair nearby, she swore she could see it moving. If she crossed her eyes, then closed them, she could make the swirling pattern twist itself into letters, make it form words.

_Tumor_.

_Resectable._

_Biopsy._

_Risky._

_Urgent._

_Fatal._

_Regardless._

_Prognosis._

Sometime during her little game, Emily's brain had stopped processing sound, so she hadn't heard her mother observe that it had been six hours since they'd gotten home, and that if Emily didn't say something soon—well, that was all Elizabeth had gotten out of her mouth before Sean volunteered to try again.

"Can I come in?" he asked, tapping his knuckles twice on her cracked door.

Emily didn't hear that, either.

Presuming that she was either sleeping or didn't object to his presence enough to verbalize it, Sean pushed open the door and took a hesitant step inside. "Hey."

But Emily still didn't take in Sean's presence. Not until he walked in front of the chair and disrupted her game. She blinked and gazed up at him.

"I'm sorry."

Emily's shoulder twitched uncaringly. "It happens."

Sean sighed. "It is a big deal, you know. You're allowed to act like it. I know today was…a big sucker punch," Sean said, taking a seat in the chair. "Even though you were the one who wanted the scans, I know you weren't expecting anything like this. But neither was I. Neither were your parents. And they're kind of losing it out there, so could you at least…say something…for them? They need to know how you're feeling."

Though Sean's voice sounded like it was coming from the far end of a tunnel, Emily made out his words. "Rossi asked me a few days ago…why I let you in and not him."

By sitting forward and folding his hands, Sean signaled that he was listening.

"Never mind, I guess what I was going to say doesn't really make sense. My point was going to be that you don't really force me into anything, besides that first therapist's office, anyway. You just…let me deal with things. You don't make me deal with them," Emily said.

"And I'm making you now," Sean realized, shaking his had. "You're right—"

"That wasn't my point. My point was just that…I _just_ found out there's a tumor in my brain that's most likely cancerous, and that if I don't get it taken out, I'll die eventually. But if I do try to get it taken out, there's a very substantial chance I could die on the table, and a chance they won't be able to get it all out even if I make it through the surgery. And even if they do get it all, if it's cancer it'll probably come back. And…anyone else would've been in here, sitting where you are, begging me to talk, ever since we got back here, however many hours ago. And I'm sure the only reason you're sitting here now is because my parents don't know what else to do and they think you have some sort of magical powers over me. So, thanks, I guess, for holding out for as long as you did. I appreciate it."

"Sure. Did you get some time to think?"

Emily pushed herself into a sitting position, holding her head when she felt about six tons of pressure on the side on which she'd been lying. "Can you shut the door, please?"

Sean hurried to acquiesce to her request.

"I'm going to tell you this because I care about you and I don't want you to feel sorry for me, and you're one of maybe two people in the world who will accept what I'm about to say," Emily prefaced. "The rest of them will just have to buy into a lie."

Sean's brow showed its creases, deepened over the past year. "What is it?"

"I prayed for a way out of this whole mess a few days ago, Sean. I didn't pray that I would get better. I prayed for an answer, for a solution. And I don't necessarily think that this was an answer to my prayers. Clearly, that thing's been ripening for a while. But I do want you to understand my mindset, and my mindset is…if dying is how I get out of this, then I'm…I'm okay with that. In fact, I'm glad. I'm so sick of what I've become and what I've done to everyone I love," Emily said shakily, swiping at the first tears that had slid down her cheeks since she'd heard the word _cancer_. "And I miss your brother every single day. I don't remember the last time I went five minutes without thinking about him."

"So you're giving up?"

Emily shook her head. "No, not at all. First of all, I am going to have the surgery. Because like I said, not everyone would be able to understand where I'm coming from, and I owe everyone else a little effort. They need to know that I tried, that I loved them enough to want to stay here. If I give up, I risk making them feel like garbage after all they did for me."

"And how exactly am I supposed to feel?" Sean asked, refusing to let a tear fall. They welled up in his eyes instead.

"Like…the best friend I've had this past year. That's why I'm confiding in you. When this eventually kills me—which it will, one way or another—I don't want you to feel like I finally got hope and went through this…_transformation_ and suddenly regained my will to live, just to have it taken away from me. And I don't want you to feel like I got shortchanged after all the fighting you did for me, and after all the fighting you would've assumed I'd done. You did…everything you knew how. I know I didn't do the same. I could've tried harder, but that would've required wanting it enough. And I don't think I did. I never wanted to get better if it meant letting go. I _wanted_ to want to get better, but I think just…so much of me died with him."

"I'm sorry, I just don't see how this doesn't qualify as giving up," Sean said with a stony bitterness.

"I'm going through with the surgery," Emily said.

"Truly hoping you'll die on the table. That's not fighting. That's giving up. If that surgery is successful and you have to go through chemo and all of that shit just like Aaron did, you won't make it if you don't have hope. So what's even the point of the surgery if you're not even gonna fight?"

"Sean, please," Emily said, tasting salt on the corners of her lips. "Hear me out. You have different needs than the rest of my friends do. They don't know me like you have the past year. They don't see how truly messed up I am, day in and day out. They see it as just a phase, because they're not there while I live it. But you know how much it's taken over my life. My identity. When this is all over, _you'll_ need to know that I got what I wanted. _You'll_ need to know that my problems were solved. The way I wanted them to be solved."

"Why tell me this now? Why not just leave a letter for me to read after you die? Why do I have to know the master plan?"

Emily pondered. She'd thought this out, but wasn't sure how to word it. "Because if I wrote you a letter saying what I just said, and you read it _after_ I died, you'd wonder if there had been something you could've said or done to change my mind. No one trusts the judgment of people in my…state of mind. Not even the people that love them the most, the people who understand what they're going through. So you would've felt responsible, like I didn't make the right choice because I wasn't capable of making choices on my own. You would've felt like if I'd confided in you, you could've talked me out of it. But just to be clear, you won't. I know you probably don't think I'm thinking very clearly right now, Sean, but this is the most sure I've been about anything in such a long time."

Sean rubbed his fingers briskly up and down either side of his nose, trying to massage away the burning tears. "I still can't sit here and listen to you say you're ready to die. How am I supposed to wrap my head around that?"

Emily handed Sean a tissue and took one for herself as well. "Think of my depression as…something more physical. Think of it like…like cancer. I hit rock bottom a few days ago. I thought I was already pretty much there, but when I fabricated a _baby_ in my mind and drove five hours to introduce her to my dead husband, I _really_ hit rock bottom. What do we feel for cancer patients when they're at their worst? When they're stage four, and the oncologist says any treatment will just prolong their life, but not make it better? When they're told there's nothing they can do to cure it? Don't we allow them the luxury of dying if that's what they want? Don't we let them decide when to call it quits? Didn't we do that for your brother?"

Emily certainly had Sean's attention now.

"I'm not saying what I've been through is anything like what he's been through. It's apples and oranges, because if—if I smile big enough, strangers won't know I'm sick. And yeah, I've had a little more choice over my fate than he did. If I'd really wanted to move on, maybe I could have. Or, I could've acted in my own best interests in the first place and stayed in DC, could've taken Jack only on weekends. But regardless of how I got here, I'm sick, Sean. I'm so sick that when that doctor finally spit out the _c-_word, I didn't cry. If I'm _so_ sick that cancer sounds like a _relief_, then why can't it be my time to call it quits?"

Sean scratched at his chin, looking up at the ceiling.

Emily saw a tear drip down onto the knee of her jeans when her lip trembled so fiercely she could hardly get her next words out. "I know I don't necessarily look all that sick, at least not next to Hotch in his final months. But I _am_ sick. And I know that you understand that more than anyone. Now I just need you to let my illness operate like other illnesses. The pain isn't bearable anymore, and _now_ I'm supposed to not only regain my will to get my old self back—which I don't currently see as even remotely possible—but I'm supposed to have the strength to overcome cancer, too? I just can't. And I need you to know that I'm okay with that. This isn't suicide. This is me exercising my right not to fight against something that seems beneficial to me. Something that can put me out of my misery."

"How long have you been—how long you have you been thinking like this? Thinking about dying?" Sean asked, finally crying outright. Emily hated herself for bringing on those tears, but then again, she'd hated herself for months now, so that was nothing new.

Emily shrugged. "I honestly don't know. But trust me, I've never felt suicidal. Enough of my Catholicism stuck with me from when I was a kid for me to believe that that's a mortal sin. Going through the motions and letting God decide what happens to me? That's faith, that's…release. And that might get me to where Hotch is. But suicide isn't an option and it never has been. Please trust that."

"I can't…I can't pretend to be okay with this," Sean said. "Not after how much we've both tried to find a way for you to live your life again. I can't just throw it all away."

Emily blew her nose and stared at Sean through her swollen-shut eyes. "It's not throwing it away. All you did, all you sacrificed to help me, I'll never forget it. I guess that's another reason why I needed to talk to you about this, because you've invested so much into helping me get better, so much more than anyone else, that I feel like if you can't accept it, then I'm not allowed to go through with it. I want your blessing."

"Do you _need_ it?" Sean asked with a loud sniffle.

"Please, Sean. When—when Hotch was ready to stop chemo, he asked for me to tell him it was okay, and I couldn't at first. I didn't want him to continue on in pain, of course, but I also couldn't stand the thought of him giving up, because that made his death that much more real, you know? But he _begged_. He begged until I told him it was okay. I hated it, but I finally gave him my blessing, and once I did, it hurt like nothing I'd ever felt, but I was able to start that final process with him. He had me—and you—by his side when he decided it was his time to go. Please, be on my side. Please."

"This…this isn't the same as it was with Aaron," Sean said gruffly. "We knew he was dying. We knew it was coming. But this…you're catching me way off guard here. One minute you're agreeing to see a new therapist and admit yourself if you need to, and the next, you're thankful that you have cancer, because for God knows how long, you've wanted to _die_? Aaron didn't have a choice, Emily. You do. And I wanna…I wanna see you at peace, but not like that. There's so much out there you could do with the rest of your life. You could get over all of this if you just set your heart to it. You could fall in love again. You could have Jack back in your life permanently. I just don't get how you don't want that. I don't. It makes me sick to my stomach. So…no. You don't have my blessing."

Sean's rejection wasn't nearly what Emily had expected. Despite his rough around the edges appearance, she'd found him to be quite a sensitive soul. An amazing friend. Why it was that he couldn't see her side of things, she didn't quite know. Oddly, it wasn't making her overall plan seem any less feasible. It just made her that much more eager to travel forward, to get this over with.

"Are you still gonna do it?" Sean asked, his blue eyes shining between pink, puffy eyelids. "Are you still gonna give up and lie to everyone about it?"

"Why, do I get points if I tell the truth, and break everyone else's hearts, too?" Emily retorted. "Is that what I should do? Or are you trying to convince me to muster up some sort of strength I don't have, and suddenly get the motivation and the ability to overcome this? Which is it? Which one do you want?" She sat forward and took his hands, squeezing them like a vice.

"I want you to want to live. I want this cancer to be an obstacle, like it is to normal people."

Emily released her grip on Sean's hands and straightened her posture. His words stung, but she thought they might prove useful to her argument. "I'm not normal, Sean. I haven't been in a long time. This is what I _want_. I want this release. I need it. Do you want me to live for _myself_, or for _you_?"

"Why can't it be both?" Sean asked incredulously. "You're my friend. You're my family. Why can't I want you to live without it being selfish? It's _normal_. Wanting someone to live is _normal_. Stop persecuting me for being _normal_."

Emily's jaw fell a little at Sean's lashing out. "You're persecuting me for being sick," she pointed out, amazed she could get out a complete sentence, let alone a meaningful one.

"I can't do this," Sean said, sliding his hands up and down his thighs. "I have to go. I have Jack in the morning. Are you coming with me or staying here? If you wanna stay, I can come back and get you whenever."

"I think…I think I'm gonna stay here," Emily said, her decision made easier by just how much she'd hurt Sean. "They asked if I'd move in with them, and I can't argue with the logic. They are my parents, they want to help me, and you've already helped me far beyond the call of duty. You've given up a lot for me. I don't think you'll ever know how much I appreciate it. Anyway, I think it's time to stop putting you through this. especially if you don't agree with the way I want to handle this. I hope that's okay."

Sean's hereditary temper showed itself when he rose and departed the room with only two more words. "Fine. Bye."

—

After informing her parents that she had decided to move back home and go through with the surgery, and after enduring the hugs and the crying from the hellish day she'd given them, Emily had other forces with which to contend. She waited until her parents turned in for the night, then let herself out onto the back patio for some fresh air. Sean was probably almost home by now, and probably still furious. She couldn't handle the thought of him being angry with her, though, so she called him in hopes that she could earn his forgiveness without changing her plan.

She didn't get a chance to test her wits, though. Sean didn't answer.

So she dialed the next person on her list.

"Hey, you," Rossi answered. "Were you gonna make me sweat it out all day?"

"I'm sorry, I just…needed some time to process," Emily said softly. "Do you want to grab a coffee or something?"

"I don't know, is this a conversation we want to have in public?" Rossi replied. "Never mind. I already know the answer to that. When are you heading back to Philly?"

Emily gulped. "I'm not. I decided to move in with my parents for the time being. They want to help me more and I can't deny them that. Besides, I've put Sean through enough."

"Then let me come grab you and we'll go for a walk. That is, if it's all right by your folks."

"They're sleeping, I think. I'll sneak out the window," Emily said with an invisible grin.

—

There was a park not too far down the street from the Prentiss' home. Lined with thick, lush trees, with a gravel path and wooden benches winding through the middle, it was the perfect place for a walk, but still not the greatest place for tonight's talk.

Emily chose the bench. She'd carved her initials into it as a child, but its planks had been replaced several times since then.

Rossi innocently held Emily's hand as she told him what she'd learned that day and that she'd decided to go through with the surgery.

"Wow," he said, a little more than misty-eyed. "When can they do the surgery?"

"They said it would be pretty high priority," Emily said. "I'll call them tomorrow and we'll set a date. Why?"

Rossi shook his head uncertainly. "I just wanna know the day I can see you come out on the other side of this."

It was then that Emily knew she couldn't ask of Rossi the same thing she'd asked of Sean. She couldn't burden him with that secret, that pain. She'd already torn up one friendship, possibly beyond repair. As much as she wanted the blessing of at least one person she loved, she didn't want it badly enough to witness again the kind of hurt she'd seen in Sean's eyes.

"Did this give you a little…nudge in the right direction? Is it motivating at all?" Rossi asked hopefully.

Emily sensed that hope with ease and fed it, nodding eagerly. "Definitely. I'm gonna kick this cancer's ass." She smiled and wrapped her arms around Rossi's neck. For a split second she wondered if a hug from such a dear friend would give her the motivation she'd just lied about, but it didn't. Such was the nature of self-fulfilling prophecies.

Two days later, it was still summer and still far too hot outside for a fire, but that didn't stop Emily from spending vast amounts of time in her parents' formal living room with its ornately surrounded wood-burning fireplace. She just stared at the logs and imagined the flames and the popping when she took breaks from trying to get into a copy of _Slaughterhouse-Five_ she'd found on her bookshelf. It was a pointless endeavor. Even though she hadn't read the book in years now, she still knew every word before she got to it.

As it turned out, it was harder to hide away in bed all day when she was living with her two newly retired parents. So she left herself accessible but still sought quiet places in the house. This room had been one of her favorites as a child, when she'd wanted a peaceful place to dive into a book or do her homework.

"Sweet pea?" her father said, poking his head in the door.

"Dad, I'm over the hill," she said dryly. "I love you, but we really need to upgrade from the pet names."

"I call your mother the same thing."

"And then she rolls her eyes at you," Emily said with a gentle smile. "Sorry, what is it?"

"I think I heard your phone ringing, that's all. I didn't want you to miss anyone important."

"Oh, okay, thanks. I'll get it in a minute."

"When did Sean say he'd bring back your things?" George inquired.

"He's coming tomorrow. He's not bringing much, though. Just clothes and some sentimental things. I listed the furniture online and it's already sold."

"He sure has been good to you," George said, convinced that Sean had left the house two days ago because he'd had to work, not because he'd just been told a secret too excruciating to bear.

"I know," Emily said somberly. "I offered to come out and get my stuff myself but he insisted. He said he's gonna bring Jack. They're gonna get a hotel for a night so Jack can swim and stuff. Make a little vacation out of it."

"Oh, good. It'll be good for you to see Jack. Lift your spirits a little. How did it go last night with your friends?"

Emily didn't chastise her father for the incessant questioning. "Everyone was understandably pretty upset, but I think before I left Rossi's house I was able to convince them all that I'll be okay, emotionally."

"And physically?"

"They understand the risks involved with the surgery. They want to be there for me, and I'm going to let them this time. Simple as that."

Emily's father finally sat down on the couch, slinging his arm behind her. "I'm glad we can be there for you this time, too."

Emily tucked her chin into her father's shoulder and returned his embrace with all her might, which wasn't much, as her medication had her due for a nap. "I'm so sorry I cut you off. Maybe if I hadn't, things wouldn't have kept getting worse."

"There's no sense in thinking that way. It's all in the past, honey. Let's just focus on the present."

It was in the arms of the man who had helped create her, the man who had raised her with only a charming amount of misguidance, the man who didn't hold her worst sins against her, that she realized her mind was made. If the embrace of her own loving father couldn't give her a change of heart, couldn't make her long for an earthly life, nothing could.

Resting felt so much better than trying, especially when every relationship she had, she'd already sacrificed. Some of those relationships, like the ones with her parents and Rossi, would stand the test of time if she were to be cursed with more of it. But Sean and the rest of her friends seemed less eager to jump right back in, and understandably so. It wasn't that they didn't care, but by no fault but her own, they didn't know how to handle her.

"There it is again," George said. "Your phone going off. Want me to go get it?"

Emily shook her head. "I'm about to fall asleep. My anti-anxiety pills knock me out. I'll call whomever it is back later."

George got up. "Gonna sleep in here?"

"Nah, I'll go lie in bed. I should be up in an hour or so. I'll help you guys with dinner."

—

"_You're upset," Emily said, looking at Hotch as he sat behind the wheel. Where they were going, she wasn't sure, but all that mattered was that they were together._

"_Why would I be upset?" Hotch asked._

"_Because I'm giving up. Because I hurt Sean. Because Jack's going to have to say goodbye to one more person eventually."_

_Hotch reached to his right and found Emily's hand. "He'd have to do that either way. And he's already distanced himself on his own. He'll be okay. Maybe it's even better for him if you don't draw it out like I did. At times I still wished I'd stopped chemo one round sooner so I wasn't such a stranger to him when I was finally ready to go."_

"Wished_, not _wish_," Emily said. "Past tense. You still don't wish that?"_

"_I don't dwell on regrets anymore," Hotch stated simply, bringing Emily's hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles._

_Emily was dumbfounded. "Where do you find that? That peace? Is heaven really that perfect?"_

"_It is, but it's hard to explain why. And we're under a secrecy clause. If you show up in someone's dreams and tell them what it's all about, you get evicted," Hotch said with a little smirk._

_Emily laughed softly and suddenly they were in bed, in the apartment they'd shared. It was cold out and the blankets kept them snug and warm. "I miss you so much," she said, resting her cheek on her pillow and reaching out to brush the salt and pepper bangs from his forehead. "I'm hurting so much that not even Sean can understand. I just want to be with you again. Is that so bad?"_

"_Of course not. It's your choice. You gave me your blessing. How could I not give you mine?"_

_Emily gave a grateful, watery-eyed smile and pressed her lips to her husband's. "I love you."_

_Hotch caught Emily's eyes one last time before shutting his own, accepting her next kiss, deeper and needier than the last. "I love you, too," he said during a breather._

"_Can we…?" she asked eventually, running her hand from his shoulder, down to his chest, past his stomach. "It's been so long."_

"_I'd love to," Hotch said with a smile. "But I do want to say one thing first."_

_Emily rested her chin on Hotch's chest and looked up at him. "Yeah?"_

_He found her fingers and interlaced them with his own. Even if the rest of her dreams were in black and white, she always convinced herself upon waking that his eyes had been a warm, inviting hazel. _

"_I'm waiting for you," Hotch said, running his hand through Emily's hair, so long that it passed her chest. "I don't think about anyone else that way, and I never will."_

—

Emily hadn't seen Jack in almost three weeks now, and it had only been for dinner on a Saturday night. The plan had been for him to spend the night, but even though she hadn't been in a particularly blue mood, he'd still changed his mind and asked for his aunt to come get him.

Thus, Emily didn't know what to feel when she saw Jack get out of the backseat of Sean's car. Elation? Nothing brought that on anymore. But happiness she could certainly manage. "Hi, honey," she said, crouching down to hug him.

"Hi, Emily," he said blandly, giving her a light hug in return.

Somehow, Emily managed to forget between visits just how much love Jack had lost for her. Just how much she'd failed him. She remembered now and had to choke back the tears.

"We should talk, but after…" Sean said covertly.

Emily nodded and helped haul her luggage inside. Her father came outside to handle the rest. "Want some coffee?" she offered Sean.

"I'll handle it," Elizabeth said, popping out of the kitchen. Everyone knew what Emily needed to do and no one seemed to want to distract her.

"Hey, Jack, do you want to come sit in my room for a little while? I wanted to talk to you," Emily said.

"Your new house is really big," Jack said after nodding. He returned the Prentiss' greeting

"Actually, this is my _old_ house, from when I was a kid. The room I'm staying in now is the same room I had when I was a little girl."

"Uncle Sean said you'd tell me why you had to move," Jack said as they walked down the long, narrow hallway upstairs.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. Tah-dah," she said, pushing open her door and opening her arms. It wasn't until now that she realized how juvenile the décor still was, but if she had her way, she wouldn't be around for much longer, so the didn't need to go opening any catalogues.

"What did you wanna tell me?" Jack asked, helping himself to the chair, unfazed by all the relics of the eighties.

"Well," Emily said with a deep sigh, sitting at her bedside. "Jack, I saw a new doctor the other day, because I still wasn't feeling like myself and I wanted to get better. I asked them to do some scans of my head—kind of like an X-Ray, but more advanced."

"Why did you wanna do that?"

"Because I had this…little suspicion that maybe I've been depressed and tired and sick all this time for some reason related to my brain. Not just because I was sad, but because of something else. and, well…sweetie, they did find something when they looked at the pictures."

Jack's eyes welled up, but only because Emily's were streaming. "What did they find?"

"There's a tumor in my brain, Jack. And it's…very dangerous. In a few days, I'm going to have a surgery where they try and take it out."

"A tumor? A cancer tumor like Daddy's?"

Emily reached out and squeezed Jack's slender shoulders, rolling her palms over them in circles. "They don't know yet whether the tumor is cancerous. They won't be able to tell until they can examine a piece of it under a microscope, and with brain tumors, they just go ahead and take the whole thing out all at once if they can get to it, instead of just getting a little piece to sample."

"So either way they'll take it out?" Jack asked.

"They're going to try their best."

"Okay."

Emily wondered what it had been like for Hotch to tell Jack about his diagnosis. Certainly more emotional than this, she figured. Had she lost Jack completely? Already, his focus was stolen by the peeling paint on the side of her dresser.

"Anyway," Emily said, trying to salvage what was left of Jack's interest in the subject, "that's why I'm moving back in with my mom and dad. I'm still having a hard time being on my own, and they love me and want to take care of me."

"So I don't have to have dinner at your apartment anymore, either?" Jack asked.

Emily screwed up her face in an effort to avoid doing just that. "I love having dinner with you, honey. You don't have fun at all?"

Jack shrugged apologetically.

A slow and accepting nod was needed before Emily could speak again. "I know, it's hard to be around me. I'm not a lot of fun anymore."

"Is it time for me and Uncle Sean to go to the hotel yet?" Jack asked. "I wanna go swimming."

"In a minute." Emily took half of that to contemplate preparing Jack for the worst, but he didn't seem all that bothered by the prospect of cancer, so she didn't want to force him to fret over it. "Can I have a hug?" she asked finally, opening up her arms.

Jack nodded and walked into Emily's open arms.

"I love you," she whispered, placing a kiss above his ear.

"I love you, too," he replied out of habit.

"I know I haven't acted like it in a long time, but I really do mean it." Someday, when Jack was grown, he would come to know just how much she'd meant to him. He would realize that Emily hadn't moved to Philadelphia for a "cool new job," but that she'd prayed for that job so she wouldn't be too far away from him. And that sacrifice had cost her her sanity. Now she only hoped that he never connected those dots, never came to blame himself for whatever came to pass.

"Now can I go?" Jack asked.

Emily had never felt so deeply wounded by the lack of an invitation to a pool party. "Once I talk to your Uncle Sean, sure. Why don't you go ask my mom about some oatmeal raisin cookies. I think she baked some. Though if they're not all that good, be nice and say you love them anyway, okay?"

"'Kay," Jack said with a giggle. He trotted out of the room and shouted for Sean. Emily waited where she was, paralyzed by the careless words of a boy too little to know the power he held over her.

Sean carried a cardboard box into Emily's room with him. "How'd it go?" he asked, shutting the door behind him.

"I told him I might be sick with the same thing that killed his father and he just wants to go swimming," she said, snatching up a handful of tissues. "In a way, I guess it went great. I've…completely lost him, more than I even realized. So when this is over, it won't be too traumatic for him."

"That's…rough. I'm sorry. I had no idea he'd be so unfazed." And now it was Sean opening up his arms. And unlike Jack, Emily actually needed a hug. The sobs wracked her body so violently that Sean shook against her.

"What did—I do?" she choked.

"You didn't do anything," Sean reassured her. "You just got sick."

"What did Jessica say when you told her?" Emily asked after a long pause.

"Cried. Like a baby."

"What? Really?"

"She knows exactly what she did. Why do you think she hasn't called you? It's because she can't stand herself for what she did to you."

"Don't," Emily said, backing away. "I know neither one of us is crazy about her, but I don't want to blame anyone. If you want to, go for it, but I don't even want to think about her, honestly."

"Sorry," Sean said. He reached for the box he'd set at the foot of Emily's bed. "I uh…packed everything that might possibly have any meaning. All except for the fireplace, which I couldn't fit in my car. It's at my apartment."

"Thank you," Emily said, watching as Sean dug into the box.

"The pillow," Sean said, handing Emily her most treasured possession besides her wedding ring.

"Thank you," she said again, burying her face in it, breathing it in. It didn't smell at all like Hotch anymore, but it still meant every bit as much as it had a year ago.

"Pictures," Sean said, taking out a stack of frames. "And this is why I wanted to talk to you."

"Why? Did something happen to one of them?" Emily asked, almost panicking.

"No, no, no." Seat sat down with the box between his feet. "I…was packing all this stuff up yesterday and believe it or not I was still angry with you. But then I saw this…" He handed her the photo with Frankie sandwiched between her and Hotch, all three of them beaming. "I remember how devastated Aaron was when he told me over the phone that Frankie had passed away. And then I realized you never had anyone like that, not since Aaron died. You haven't had someone to make you forget about how shitty your predicament is. Aaron had Frankie, and he had me, and Jack…and he had you. And…what has Jack done for you? Nothing, because he's a little kid and he trusts everything grown-ups tell him, and you know the Brooks have been poisoning his mind ever since he got to Philly. And me? I tried, and I'm sorry I couldn't do better."

Emily's chin shuddered and she shook her head. "Please don't be sorry. I'm more grateful than I can say. I wish I could show it better than telling you I want to—"

"Stop. I don't wanna hear that. Let me finish," Sean said. "Please?" he added more politely when he saw how the sharpness of his words had cut Emily. She nodded.

"The people you left behind," Sean said, handing Emily the picture of the team sitting atop Hotch's desk when he'd been out sick for the day.

"Is this supposed to be a pep talk?"

"Still not done. That's what you left behind to be with Jack. Your friends, a job you loved, your entire life. All you had left. And when I saw Jack just now and he asked if we could go swimming…Jesus Christ. Emily, I never realized. I mean, I realized, but I guess I underestimated. I'm getting angry now just thinking about it, and not at you or Jack, just…at God, I guess. For not bringing someone into your life like Aaron had. Or some sort of distraction. And then for letting Jack get taken away from you like that? The last time I wanted to kick something so badly was, well, a little over a year ago."

Emily dabbed at the mess on her face and offered Sean a half-hug from where she sat. "You don't have to be mad."

"But I am. And I'm still not done."

Emily knew what came next. The world's cheapest wedding portrait. It usually sat on her nightstand. Hotch looked over the moon, and Emily was right there with him. She wondered what torturous things Sean had to say about this one.

"You said you needed me to be on your side. I still hate that you feel like you have nothing left to live for, but now I get why you feel that way, and I can't blame you for it anymore. You don't give up your life for just anyone. You give it up for your soul mate, and he was yours, and I never realized how much harder it made it for you to see yourself happy again. I still don't fully get it, and I still hope by some miracle that something happens that changes your mind and makes you want to fight this, but if that doesn't happen, then I won't be angry with you. I don't blame you. You gave it your all already, and that's why you've run out of things to give. And if…" Sean stopped to even out his breathing. "If death is still what you want, and if you still want my blessing to give in, then you have it."

"You have absolutely no idea how much that means to me," Emily said stuffily. "Thank you, for everything."

—

"It will be much easier to manage your hair and take care of the incision if you get your hair cut shorter," the surgeon had told her three days before the surgery. "We will have to shave a substantial amount off the side, but if you leave it chin-length or even shorter, your remaining hair will still be thick enough to cover up the exposed area."

And here she was, the evening before the surgery, with a fresh haircut and plans to meet with the team at Rossi's house and accept their hugs and well wishes with a smile.

She had hated the haircut, though, from the moment the hairdresser had turned her around to face the mirror. It was shorter than she'd asked for, shorter than it had been since college. The blunt cut made her feel less like herself. Not only had she preferred the look of her hair longer, but Hotch had, too. That was why it had taken her two days to make the decision to cut it. In the event that it wasn't yet her time to go, she'd decided that her surgeon was right.

She now fussed with the pixie cut in the visor mirror as Sean parked his car in front of Rossi's house. "You sure you don't want to come in? I would say the more the merrier, but I'm not sure that applies here. Still, you're welcome to—"

Sean held up a hand. "I'll see you when I pick you up and I'll see you all morning. Let them have their time."

Emily took a deep breath and nodded. Her gut lurched, and then her heart jumped into her head when Sean's phone went off. Instinctively, she looked to see if it was hers, and saw the name Miranda on the screen. "Sorry, didn't mean to look," she said.

"It's okay. I'll get it later."

"Is that _the_ Miranda?" Emily asked with a grin she didn't have to force.

"Yeah," Sean said with an awkward scratch of his neck. "I tried to tell her things are on hold for a little while, but she's kinda clingy."

"Well, you told her about me, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

Emily shrugged. "She just wants to make sure you don't forget about her and someone else doesn't snatch you up. Looks like you've found someone who sees what a catch you are. Text her back. Better yet, call her. Texts are so annoying."

Sean chuckled. "Call me when you're ready for a pickup. Your hair looks great, by the way."

Emily walked up to Rossi's front door and kept fluffing her hair on the way, finally giving up and flattening it in a panic right before JJ opened up the door.

"Whoa, look at you!" JJ marveled. "You can totally pull off that haircut, I don't know what you were talking about on the phone. Come on in, everyone wants to see."

Emily's friends were gathered in Rossi's living room, each of them lighting up with a smile when they saw her, but the smiles didn't last long.

"It looks adorable," Garcia said, picking her cheery countenance back up.

"I hate it," Emily said with a laugh, covering her mouth. "I can't stand it. Let's face it, my hair would be lopsided anyway. Rossi, do you have a razor or clippers or something?"

Jaws dropped all over the room. "Uh…yeah, but are you sure? That stuff takes a while to grow back."

Emily swallowed and nodded, setting down her purse. "I'm positive. But I'll need some help getting the back of it. Would you guys mind?"

"Dibs," Morgan said, smiling and surprising Emily with a bear hug.

"We all get a turn," Garcia said. "It's only fitting."

"As long as I can borrow that scarf on your bag for the ride home," Emily said.

"Honey, you can have my entire scarf collection if you want it. Now let's turn you into G.I. Jane."

—

"_I know I said I loved your long hair," Hotch said, skimming his thumbs back from Emily's forehead, all the way back to the nape of her neck, "but I could definitely get used to this, too. You look breathtaking."_

_Everything around them was white again._

_Emily smiled and curled her fingers around Hotch's wrists. "You pulled it off better."_

"_No way. Jack was right, I looked like an alien. You look like…an angel."_

"_Are you ready?"_

"_For what?" Hotch asked, still mesmerized._

_Emily waited until Hotch looked her in the eye. "For me. If it's my time, are you ready?"_

_Hotch answered first with the gentlest kiss. "If you are."_

"_I am."_

"_Even after tonight, with the team and everything?" Hotch asked._

"_Yeah. I'm ready."_

"_Okay. Then maybe I'll see you soon."_

"_We'll have to figure out a way to make sure it's not all in my head," Emily said with an anxious chuckle. _

"_You're the smartest woman I ever had the pleasure of knowing. I'm sure you'll figure something out. Now go, get some sleep. I love you."_

—

"Thank you, Father," Emily said to the same priest who had read Hotch his last rites.

Father Davison nodded, took his Bible, and left the room after spending a short time praying for Emily.

"Your DNR is in order," a nurse told Emily discretely. "I need you to take off all your clothes and get into this gown, open to your back, please."

Emily changed quickly in the cold, curtained prep area, then sat up on the stretcher. Her terrified parents came to see her one at a time per hospital rules. Then Rossi. JJ. Then a nurse, who told her that her friends' fake FBI badges weren't funny. Then Morgan. Garcia. Reid. And finally, Sean, whose burden was clear to Emily.

"How's Jack?" she asked.

"He's just fine. He doesn't know the surgery's today, like you asked."

Emily nodded. "Thanks."

"You ready?" Sean asked, taking a seat on a rolling stool and tapping his toes nervously on the floor.

Emily swallowed with a dry mouth. "Yeah. Are you?"

Sean rolled his eyes at his own tears and shrugged. "I dunno. I wish I knew what to expect."

"As long as you won't think I'm a coward for wanting it," Emily said, lowering her voice.

"We've been over this," Sean chided. "You have my blessing. It's okay. Just…don't make me say any more than that."

"Did you want to stay while we finish getting her ready?" a nurse asked Sean when she opened up the curtain.

Sean nodded. "If that's okay with her."

"Of course," Emily said. "But can we have one more minute?"

"Sure, honey."

Emily's heart suddenly raced, but she was still ready. "I've never said this for fear of it being weird, but I'm pretty sure nothing I could say would be weird at this point. In case I don't see you again, I love you."

Sean smiled and grabbed the hand without the IV needle. "I love you, too. Weird, yes. But uncalled for, definitely not."

"You have my wedding ring, right?"

Sean pulled a silver chain from his pocket. "Got it."

"Wear it, just in case. I don't want it to get lost. And you'll leave it to my mom if I die?"

"I promise. And it's in your will, so I'm pretty much legally bound to do it anyway. Don't worry. Either way, everything's gonna be okay. If I see you…twelve hours from now…we'll go from there. And if not, then tell Aaron I said hello."

Emily nodded and closed her eyes, letting the initial wave of sedatives wash over her. Sean stayed until the anesthesiologist arrived, said goodbye once more, and left.

—

The last thing Emily saw was the bright light of the bone-chilling operating room, and then black.

Some indeterminate amount of time later, the white light came back, blinding her temporarily. It took her a moment to determine she wasn't in an operating room. Wasn't in a hospital at all. A tall, slender figure walked toward her, a silhouette at first, details filling in as it got closer.

Emily ran the moment she became certain of the figure's identity. He caught her in his arms when she jumped. His laughter was joyous, echoing around the great big nothing in which they spun around. He had to put her down eventually. "How do I know this isn't all in my head again?" she said, panting as she held fast to him.

"Easy. Try to imagine me letting go, just for a second," he said. "You're pretty good at that lucid dreaming."

Emily closed her eyes and forced herself to imagine Hotch stepping back from her. But his hold on her never faltered.

"It's really you," she said, sighing in the utmost peace as she drew away a short distance to touch his face. To run her fingers along the bald head that probably only she had loved, while Hotch gathered her long, thick hair behind her head. "I don't remember the last time I felt so…"

"Happy?"

"It seems too simple a word," Emily said, shaking her head.

Hotch smirked and brushed his lips against Emily's. "You're right. We'll have to work on finding a better one." He stepped away and held out his hand. "Come on. Let me show you around."

**THE END**

**A/N: Reviews are much appreciated. I haven't cried this much writing something since Departing Sun. I hope this chapter especially was as thought provoking as it was sad. I highly recommend giving it a second read. Thanks for reading just once!**


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